At The Beginning
by silverymare
Summary: AU. Ever wondered how Garnet and Zidane would meet in the real world? This is a take on their first meeting. Enjoy! oneshot. No matter what everyone says, this will not be continued.


**At The Beginning**

_I do not own Final Fantasy 9. _

By silverymare

A take on their first meeting. (AU one-shot).

* * *

The husky smoke that drifted luxuriously around the darkened, dimly-lit room crackled from the lips of strangers sitting down, who eyed the bottles of liquor placed at the wooden bar. There were a few lights that hovered over the numerous sunburned pool tables, like the lights that blinded you at the surgeon's. For those who were patrons and came often, the sight of the hall was a place to escape dusty workplaces and nagging wives. Like hawks, they watched the endless turns of the dimly lit pool games.

Zidane took a long, sensitive drag of his last cigarette. The small stub was quickly being snuffed up his throat, while the white end glowed red from its dying heat.

"…Where'd you leave the boys again?"

He mirthlessly smiled at his companion, flicking the small nub of the cigarette end onto the floor, before smashing it into the blood-dark carpet. He exhaled, a heady stream of cloudy heat expelled.

He gently, lovingly took the small, blue, used cube of chalk into his fingers instead, caressing his cue stick at its tip, and blew on it to remove any chalk leftover. He smoothed down his shadowy jacket, shoving his expensive lighter back into his silk pocket.

He ignored the question, deeming instead to lay his full attention to the jet black pool table, honing in on his goal. The eight ball was almost unseen next to the rest, but Zidane took a stance, sliding the stick to a horizontal position and took slow aim.

"Club X." He mumbled, the smell of cheap perfume and deft fingers still lingering.

His friend gleefully beamed.

"How did you find the service this week? I saw the new one in yester-" he left off, his figure snapping to attention, taking in where Zidane had manoeuvred the balls to. He became deathly silent, smoothly moving around the large table.

"I saw. She's too old; you can tell she's not new." Blank blinked, coming out of his pool-laden gaze. He looked across the table, his eyebrows arranging themselves to a surprised angle.

"I thought she was perfect."

Blank took his stance again, sliding his finger towards the balls, checking the angle of the hit. He steadied himself, before giving the white ball a hard jab to collide with the red-striped ball. Guffawing into the room, he let the sound echo and hit Zidane's ears. Blank smirked as he took aim at the last of his shots. The black eight ball.

Zidane held his stick, pale blue eyes watching Blank's actions with an ease. He effortlessly took a seat in the accompanying chair, flicking his gaze towards the wide-long mirror opposite to him. Blank was too excited; his body stance was way off as he took the shot. Bored with the slow competition, Zidane looked elsewhere. Something shiny caught his attention, something gold.

Somewhere outside, a girl punched a drunken man who had tried to grab her. Zidane watched, slightly fascinated by the reaction, and noticed, through the hazy smoke, she wasn't half-bad looking.

Slim, delicate-looking, and with soft lips alit with red rouge, her lips and brown eyes burned with a furiously exciting light. Completely missing the eyes that were roving along her figure inside, she moved with a grace that any hooker lacked. Capable of holding her own, she smiled graciously at the drunk and punched him in the stomach, leaving him to adorn himself on the pavement.

She walked in and tempered the watchful cashier with a feisty smile, asking for the usual pool table rate. Scornfully, Zidane took a closer look then the previous scan from outside.

Tempting. She was rich, surprisingly. He could picture her slung under his arm, her soft lips messed, bright eyes gazing… she didn't look easy, something that Zidane had always liked. Such a pity that Baku had strung him around his neck the last time he had caught him messing with a girl, especially one with 'high class' tattooed on her forehead. Not that the man cared whether or not Zidane and Blank messed with prostitutes. Just as long as there were no strings attached. Zidane didn't need to extra nagging.

He shrugged.

It was the black-haired girl's golden headband that had first caught his attention, something that glimmered with the pool room light and flung it around and with it, caught attention at every male's glance.

She looked fun though, the ebony-haired girl. As her eyes moved through the smoke and adjusted to the light, she turned with a cue stick in her hand and locked eyes with his heated glance, surprised but she stopped and smiled challengingly. Zidane chuckled to himself, giving her a playful wink before turning back to Blank.

He didn't mind messing with her or just having some fun… it wasn't going to get serious. Zidane moved to pinch another cigarette out of Blank's Debussy packet, where it lay abandoned on the accompanying pool table. Taking one out, he took particular relish in illuminating it with his gold lighter and taking a good lungful. Zidane left the packet, his gaze shifting back to their surroundings. He turned to look at the clock that was hanging behind the cashier's small head which was the one thing that was clearly lit. It was ten to midnight, he noted.

Clicking the lighter back shut and shoving it back into his coat pocket, he turned back around to take his turn on the pool board. He gently fingered the side of his jet black cue stick, while lipping the cigarette, curling it in his fingers and take absent puffs. Girls were all fine, and good, but to lose at pool against Blank.. well that was unacceptable.

Zidane licked his lips, took a lungful of the smoky, but aromatic air and took a wild shot, managing to clear the rest of his round balls leftover. Too easy.

"You owe me another round with the girls, Blank. Tomorrow." drawled Zidane, holding up his stick, about to take another shot. Outside, the street was quiet and empty, the street lamps flickering, illuminating the deserted road.

Zidane had his eye on the black eight ball. And with one short, sharp jab, he cleared the black ball into the right-most pocket, as he gave the disappointed Blank a rakish grin.

"You're good." Said a voice, delicately soft.

Both of the young men turned around, and while Blank immediately placed his 'sleazy player' face on, Zidane just hiked up an eyebrow. Dressed richly, but with a hint of an edge, the appearances of female admirers were usual in the two men's company.

"Did you want something, precious?" Blank leered, his eyes delightfully running up and down her figure. The same raven-haired girl from before smiled at Zidane, completely ignoring his male companion. She was clutching her cue stick from before, which was almost taller then her, with a most determined look on her face.

She looked carefully at Zidane, noting the blonde hair carefully notched in a slim ponytail, his clean jaw-line, and his precise but beautiful blue eyes. It was him who the girls were most drawn to, the one who kept his facial expression still.

"I was wondering if your friend was busy. Seeing how you lost so pathetically, I wanted to challenge him myself." She spoke to Blank, whipping her gaze to him, giving him a warning in her dark eyes. He however, did note the inflections of a rich accent.

Blank looked astonished when Zidane nodded, and agreed to the match. His mouth was opened the slightest, the shock on his face. He ruffled his messy, russet hair, puzzled. There must be something about this girl, because Zidane would never have bothered to play a game with females. Other girls had asked but Zidane had constantly courteously and discourteously declined.

He watched the young man he had known since he'd been adopted into Baku's home. It had always been the four of them, Zidane, Marcus, Cinna and himself, for as long as he could remember. And he'd always been able to read his little bro, no matter the situation. Somehow, this was different.

It had always been guys that both of them had beaten at pool, arrogant and pretentious fools who had challenged the smirking blonde and dark red-hair in the corner. But it was Blank and Zidane who had the last laugh, taking the admiring female companions out for a drink afterwards. Marcus, the eldest, has always disapproved, but occasionally accompanied them to keep them out of trouble. Cinna had always been doing Baku's business, so he had little to say.

Now he watched as Zidane slowly gathered the balls back, and with a natural slink in his step, made the ball triangle. He placed the white ball accordingly, and giving the girl a jester's sweeping bow, Zidane smiled teasingly, a look Blank had seen before.

"Ladies first."

She nodded but her eyes were now on the pool table. Given the choice to break the triangle, she took a stance, and distractingly bent, her soft curves alluring the two men, who were gifted with the view. Blank adoringly admired it, but then woke himself out when she determinately jabbed the white orb on the table, spreading the colours of the rainbow in every direction. She turned around and smiled at Zidane, somewhat satisfied.

Blank sighed. It looked like Zidane wanted to draw this game out for a long time. The boy enjoyed toying with his opponents before he crushed their hopes.

"Hey Zid, I'm off to X. I'll meet you there when you're done with this little thing." Blank gestured to the girl, who took no offence, or any notice. Blank moved over to take his discarded jacket, which was next to his opened Debussy packet. He fingered the soft caress of the rich blood-red silk, then casually shrugged it on, and picked up the packet, shoving it back into his pocket.

"Yeah, after I'm done. Baku wants us back before 1." Zidane reminded absently, half studying the game, half the girl. His eyes roved the balls, matching angles, deciding which ball to take.

Blank shrugged and left, to the notice of only the patrons.

Under the illuminating light of the jet black pool table, Garnet til Alexandros's hair looked inky black. She moved gracefully, but was stopped short when Zidane's pool stick got in her way. She placed one hand on the pool table, the other on the stick, and looked up into the blue depths of his eyes when it didn't budge.

"Don't you think we should at least introduce ourselves?" the blonde young man drawled.

"My name is …Dagger." She said hesitantly, making up the name on a whim.

No one here knew that she had ditched her birth name and assigned bodyguard, Aldebert Steiner for a night away from her strict life. Her name was synonymous with her mother's blatantly rich ways, and most of the world had heard of them in the news. The woman she called Mother, the Brahne, had wrapped her in cotton wool, always leaving her in the dark about anything that was to happen in her life. She was always the figurehead of perfection. But not anymore.

She had freaked about the drunken man nonetheless. When she had managed to distract Steiner for enough time and decided to hide out in a pool outlet, she had been grinning from the feeling of hide-and-seek. But when she had stumbled into the drunk who had tried to grope her, she'd taken a wild punch, luckily enough to leave him out for the night. Hoping to look discreet, she had taken her jittery nerves into hand, and marched into the club.

It was only after she had purchased a usable cue stick did she notice a man gazing at her, in a way most young men did discreetly, with smouldering blue eyes. No one from any meeting her mother had placed had looked at her this way.

"Zidane, since we're on first name basis." He moved, his hand just brushing her side, but allowing her room to freely move.

She returned to her original path, shuddering from the contact. The warmth of his hand and the touch was soft. She laid her gaze back onto Zidane, seeing his enjoyment at her unease. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to play a game with this young man. Her emotions were getting confused.

As she lined herself up to place another shot, reminded of the way Beatrix had taught her to play, arms straight, good poker face on, and a steady hand, she took a glance outside. Under the tall street lights, was her clumsy but very honourable bodyguard, Aldebert Steiner.

She stiffened, and brought on by the sudden, unwelcome sight, accidentally hit the white pool ball, allowing it to shift to teeter upon the edge of the side hole. Cursing at the sight of both Steiner and the mishap, she watched as Steiner, looking confused, made his way towards the pool outlet.

'_Oh no… no.. no! Don't come in!'_ she thought, wincing.

Darting around to the solid body of Zidane, she tried to hide herself behind him. She peeped behind him, seeing Steiner enter and scan the room.

"If you don't want him to see you, I suggest you do something." Zidane had observed enough to figure out the situation. The caretaker of this female runaway had come, and the ebony haired girl was desperate to avoid a connection.

"Put your arms around my neck." He whispered, his deep voice making the 'deed' sound scandalous.

"What!" she hissed, her hands suddenly gripping his arms in effort to stop him from moving about.

He turned around, his light blue eyes almost luminous in the pool light and gently but firmly took her hands and placed them around his neck. Now they were standing close, close enough that they were breathing the same air, feeling each other's warmth. He slowly placed his arms around her waist, getting her used to it.

Her slim arms were rested his upper body, with her raven hair spilling on his chest. She let out a ragged breath, having never been so close to a man before. She felt his heartbeat in her ear, and felt her own, thudding fast. They were embracing as if they were sharing a kiss, but just the tingling sensations that ran from every touch they shared left her speechless.

His body shielded her from sight and she had completely forgotten about Steiner. Looking up, she saw a daring look in his eyes. He stared down at her, his face so close, dizzyingly close to kiss her lips. With her eyes she pleaded. Zidane bent his face down lower, only to pass her lips and teasingly let his cheek slide past hers, til she felt a warm air gently puffing at her ear.

She silently gasped, melting into his arms.

"Have you seen a girl, black-haired, with a golden hair band?" Steiner's rough voice echoed around the room. Garnet's eyes had half-closed with a distant thudding of her heart, the only thing she was aware of, was the both of them. With Steiner's voice, she was sharply jolted back into reality, a cold rush flowing down her spine.

"I have a favour to ask of you." She urgently whispered, straining her lips to his ear. She had made up her mind. There was no turning back.

"I want you to take me away…right away." Her presence was affecting Zidane more then he'd like to share. He took a whiff of her personal fragrance, enjoying the shudder she gave off. She pleadingly looked into his eyes, begging him.

He pulled his head slightly back, a surprised look on his face. Stunned with their chemistry, his mind was still a bit foggy.

"What?... Did I just hear you say, you wanted to run away?" he asked, a light smirk tugging on his lips. Why would some rich girl not want to lead the life she led?

Their proximity still held her in thrall, but she was desperate.

'_I never want to go back to that confining life.'_

"Please, or she'll come after me!"

He turned his head back around, shifting his arms so he could look back at the frustrated Steiner, who was asking patrons. The man was edging his way closer to the pool tables, though judging by the disgruntled looks on some of the regulars, they weren't helping the loud invader.

'_I don't know why I'm doing this… but something tells me.. if I do, fate might throw something fun my way.'_

He nodded.

"Sure. I'll do my best, to kidnap you." He smirked. "Welcome to the family."

* * *

Fin. 


End file.
